


Little Did He Know

by RougueShadowWolf



Series: 15 Minutes [235]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Deucalion (Teen Wolf), Blind Deucalion (Teen Wolf), Claudia Stilinski Killed Her Dogs, Dead Claudia Stilinski, Exhaustion, F/M, Hunter Claudia Stilinski, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Mention of Dead Dogs, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-10-27 23:44:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20768924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RougueShadowWolf/pseuds/RougueShadowWolf
Summary: It would’ve seemed like a waste of time chasing after the huntress for all these years, if she hadn’t left a part of herself behind. A part that wasn’t just a part of her but also him.





	Little Did He Know

**Author's Note:**

> Hear that? Hear that sound? That’s the sound of your freedom, fluttering out the window. So, get comfortable in your cage, little bird, because no one will save you now. 
> 
> This round of 15Minutes happened in the early days of August, but because of reasons they weren’t posted, and if ItAlmostWorked! hadn’t gone searching for a couple of the stories then I would’ve probably never even noticed these stories were never posted. 
> 
> Alrighty everyone who is familiar with this series please hurry to A Slight Change since you know the song and dance that is to come, while everyone unfamiliar please stay and learn a little bit about this series such as each story is a small payment to my friends. You should also be aware that each story is written in 15minutes. Once the time is spent and over, I’m required (forced) to hand the story as it is over to the 6 wicked witches. Now, if you can’t handle horribly written stories, bad grammar and plenty of typos, then you should leave now and try and liv happily ever after. 
> 
> However, if you still wish to give this story a chance, then follow down to A Slight Change, there you’ll know a little bit of what to expect when it comes to this story. 
> 
> A SLIGHT CHANGE has fallen upon to series, and that change is that there is for the moment a theme, and the theme is for now Deucalion (I’m still struggling to accept that Deucalion can be a theme). UnfriendlyRubyDragonfly wanted a story where Claudia Stilinski was a hunter and she was almost as bad as Kate, Sheriff didn’t know about her being a hunter or about werewolves, Stiles is Deucalion and Claudia’s son. 
> 
> Greetings fellow traveller, how are you feeling today? Good I hope, and if not then I shall wish whatever brings you down soon passes. Now, I shall apology for my failure to post this story and the rest of the August 15Minute stories last week, but I was struck with migraine and once it cleared the rest of the week was a battle of finding the time to just breathe, but here I am trying to get the job done (get it done this week, not to day but this week). Anyways, wish me luck while I wish you well and hope you'll have a glorious day and a wonderful end to this soon to end month, and may October be full of fun and great things for you and all you love. Take care, and be well.

Feeling properly worn down, exhausted to the point he could hardly find the strength to make his way into the house he continued to call home, the house had long ago lost the feeling home but it had his bed and it gave him a roof over his head. Sheriff Stilinski unlocked the fickle door of the house that his late wife had made into a home for not only him but their son too. The house, his home, however, hadn’t felt like a home for many years, not since Claudia was lost.

There were days when he did consider moving, selling this shell of memories, but this house was the childhood home of his son and that carried a lot of weight.

Before stepping inside the house, John threw an uneasy look in the direction of the powder blue Jeep which sat parked in the driveway. Although the sight of the vehicle that had once belonged to his dear Claudia should ease some of the worry that weighed on his shoulders, it did not, for although the Jeep held a promise of his son being home, John knew there was still a chance that Stiles might not be upstairs in his bedroom.

John hoped that he’d find his son in his bedroom, and that he would find Stiles sleeping, but John would gladly just settle for his son just being home.

There were truly times when he despaired over his only child. John loved his kid, and would do anything to keep his son safe, but Stiles continued most likely unintentionally to try his patience as a parent. 

Entering the silent and dark house, John knows that his grim outlook on life, were mostly born from one too many nights without proper sleep. Certainly, the glass or two or the occasional bottle of alcohol at the end of a long day did not help brighten his mood or aid his sleep; this much he knew from past experiences, he’d nearly done something really bad after Claudia’s death and if Stiles hadn’t walked in at the right moment, John would’ve done something he would’ve no doubt damaged his son even more than losing Claudia had.

John turns on the lights before checking to make sure he’d locked the door behind him, all the while listening to any sounds that would alert him to any hidden dangers in the house. There was a degree of paranoia in him that had him checking windows and doors before retiring for the night, this was also a routine he had when leaving the house, although his son often forgot to lock his bedroom window to John’s great frustration.

Claudia too had always been unusually careful when it came to keeping their house safe and secure, and for many years the large and somewhat brutal looking dogs she’d kept had been part of her security measures; however, these dogs were swiftly putdown by his wife when they went for their son who was but a day old, small and fragile, the swiftness of the disposal of Claudia’s once loved dogs had admittedly been a shock to him, but he’d also been glad she’d done the job for him because he would’ve gotten rid of the dogs himself after the aggression they showed towards his son.

John had never seen a pair of dogs react so aggressively to a new born child, and there hadn’t been a shadow of a doubt in his mind that the dogs would’ve eventually harmed his son, they’d already been barking like crazy in the yard as they came home from the hospital and then came crashing through doggy door like demon dogs from hell, going straight towards Claudia and the baby. 

Breathing in slowly, preparing himself for what possible disaster he might find around the house. Stiles was usually good at keeping at least the downstairs in respectable shape, but then there were the odd times he would find some new experiment to try, and most of the time these experiments didn’t leave any permanent damage to the house.

Switching on the lights in the living-room he finds the space in the same shape he’d left it the day before, no fresh singe marks on furniture or carpets, no broken lights or a scent of chemicals in the air.

`Thank God for small mercies. ´ John whispers before moving on into the kitchen, holding his breath before flicking the light-switch, the lights flickering into life and chasing away the darkness soon enough, revealing a kitchen that held one chair on its side on the floor with popcorn spread all over the floor, Stiles favourite bowl for popcorn broken on the floor in a sea of popcorn.

John’s blood runs cold at the sight, and it has him drawing out his gun and ready to call dispatch, John catches sight of an unfamiliar note attached to the old fridge that had been part of the house long before John and Claudia had moved into their first and only proper house. Carefully he moved around the kitchen table, cautious not to disturb the crime scene, all the while listening to any at all sounds that might alert him to danger while throwing glances at the window above the sink in hopes of seeing the reflection of anyone that might try and sneak up on him. 

A whispered curse escapes John’s lips when he finds one of the sharp knives his son preferred to use while chopping vegetables on the floor, the knife-rack on the kitchen counter lay on its side, his heart sinks a little at the sight of blood that sits dark against the blade of the knife dropped on the floor. 

Although the dreadful thought that his son may have been harmed, he pushes it aside instead focusing on every man and woman who might be mad and resentful enough to target John by going after his kid, his son. John feels his heart sink when he realizes the list isn’t all that short.

Making his way over to the note on the fridge, John breathes in a shaky breath, chest feeling tight while his lunges felt like an invisible hand was squeezing them tightly.

He expects to find a note of ransom, words of threat and ill-will, but what he finds is just a note from his son telling him there’s a salad waiting for him in the fridge, and that there was still some vegan lasagne too.

The sound of someone moving behind him causes him to turn around, gun raised and ready to fire at the smallest wrong move of the two figures that had come to watch him. No, of the two males was watching him, the cold eyes of a person who has lost most of their humanity causes him to feel incredibly uneasy. The other male with the unseeing eyes was smaller in size than the bolder standing behind him, felt for some reason to John like a much greater threat than the larger male, this strange blindman appeared aware and alert to everything going on in the small kitchen. 

`Tell me, ´ the blindman says, his voice eerily calm and conversational while making John feel like he was face to face with predator ready to take him down if he made a move, `where is your wife? ´

`What? ´ John asks, confused by the rather strange question.

`Where is the mother of the boy? ´ the blindman enquires with an almost deadly sort of calm, and everything from the none-threatening stance and expression of this stranger triggers even more alarm bells in John’s mind.

There was something wrong and dangerous about this strange, a man that John should feel confident in overpowering, but John has a terribly gut feeling that taking this man on would only leave him dead on the floor of his own kitchen. 

`Where’s my son! ´ John barks at the man who appears rather amused by his outburst.

Although he has no evidence yet that this stranger has his son, but there’s that part of him that just knows things, that gut feeling that he just _knows _when someone is a rotten apple or a missing person will turn-up dead. He just knows, instinctually knows that this fiend had done something to his kid, or had his kid somewhere, maybe just upstairs bound and gagged with a gun to his head or in the trunk of some car. John doesn’t know what’s going on, but he knows from just sharing a space with this stranger that he’s got John’s son.

`I know nothing about this son you speak of, ´ the blind man responds in a false air of innocence, but John has grown familiar with deceivers and their ways, and so he swiftly calls bullshit.

`Don’t lie to me. ´ John growls, taking a step forward, it is only due to the table that stands between them that prevents him from moving foolishly close to this stranger who appears to sense every move he makes. There’s a danger of being overpowered and unarmed when one was close enough to be touched, not that John wasn’t skilled enough to try and prevent such a thing from happening, but why take such a risk when there was clearly something more to this blindman than what his eyes could see?

`Where’s my son! ´ John yells as his temperament rises to that of a father who fears the worst, at the moment he was just that, a father fearing for the safety and well-being of his son, his only child and the last family member John had left in this world.

His raised voice and visible hostility towards this man who wears an unnerving smirk, causes the mountain of a man to growl much like a faithful hound would, the sound is so animal-like that John’s attention darts towards towering man who should in size alone intimidate him more than the smaller man does, but the bolder of a man is no-where near as intimidating as the smaller one; and yet, John has the uneasy feeling that this man wouldn’t be as easily taken down as the men almost of same size that John had dealt with in the past, hell, he’d even faced a guy larger than this one and had him in handcuffs without breaking a sweat, and yet there’s something about this guy like his friend that has John feeling small and weak.

However, no matter how afraid or weak John might be made to feel by these strangers in his house, he wouldn’t give-up on his kid. John had promised his wife before she became too sick that he’d always protect their son, that he’d always love him no matter what, and John wouldn’t break his promise to Claudia no matter what; and even if he’d never made a promise, John would still fight his own fears and face anyone and anything that might be a threat to his kid, and so these men aren’t going to frighten him away from finding his kid.

`Your son? ´ the blindman says then, his voice almost mocking.

`And who might this son you speak of be? ´ the unseeing man goes on to ask, voice casual as could be, which serves to only unnerves John further.

`What? ´ is John’s weak response, his eyes darting over to the larger-male who had started to move deeper into the kitchen while the blindman moved closer to the table, now and again stepping on a lonesome popcorn, the sound surprisingly loud in John’s ears.

`I will gladly assist in any possible way I can, ´the stranger continues, his voice telling John he is anything but sincere in his offer of assistance, ` in finding _your_ son, good Sheriff, once I know who I would be searching for. ´

John can’t help but feel this moment amuses this odd man who was without a doubt playing some disturbing game with him. Now, what the reason might be for such a sick game John knows not, he can’t recall ever having any at all dealings with this peculiar individual who had broken into his house, and who John just knows had done something to Stiles.

`Mieczyslaw, ´ John starts, feeling irritated by how this stranger in his house was playing with him, almost like a cat with its prey, but there’s a cautious part of him that doesn’t allow him to forget even for a second that this stranger in his kitchen might be holding his son captive somewhere; John will do anything this man says, bark and beg like a dog if he has too in order to get his kid home safe and sound, hell, if the man told him to kill someone John might not even hesitate to do it. 

`Stiles – Stiles Stilinski, but you already know this. ´John goes on to say, no longer hiding exactly how much this whole interaction irritates him, ` So, where is my son. ´

`Ah, now there’s your problem, Sheriff. ´ the blind man says voice full of cruel bemusement, while closing the distance between them until all that separates the two of them is the kitchen table. John’s heart beats wildly within his aching chest, there’s something disturbing about this man who smirks sharply at him.

`Because that child you speak of, he is most certainly not yours. ´ those words, spoken with an oil-slick smoothness rattles something within John, it sends a terrible chill through his whole body that he can’t hide.

`Now, where is the mother? ´ the blind-man says, resting a hand on the table, but John isn’t paying attention to that hand or the peculiar shape of the fingernail clicking against the scorch mark that wasn’t of Stiles’ doing.

` You see, I have a few words to share with _dear _Claudia. ´ there’s a clear distain in the strangers voice then, and even his face hardens, making suddenly some details of his face more prominent.

`My wife is dead. ´ John spits out in response, the anger in him finally pushing back the unease he’d felt a moment ago, one which had threatened to silence him, `And who are you to claim that my son isn’t mine. ´

The clicking against the surface of the table stills, and slowly that hand goes up to remove the dark glasses that had covered the eyes of the blind man. John steps back from the table when he sees the strange, unhuman shape of the fingernails, and his back hits the kitchen counter hard enough to hurt when scarred plains around eyes that begin to glow an unnatural colour is revealed to him.

`Oh, any werewolf-father knows the scent of their young. ´ the man with teeth sharp and elongated explains, and John feels genuinely terrified of this abomination before him who leans ever so slightly over the table.

`What the fuck. What the actual fuck. ´ John cries out in genuine horror, aiming his gun at none-human entity in his kitchen, but the gun is wrenched out of his hand before he’s able to pull the trigger by the bolder of a man. John doesn’t even have a chance to register the fact that he’s unarmed before he is slammed chest first on the kitchen table, a heavy hand pressing down upon his neck while another hand pins his arms behind his back, the unnatural amount of strength he feels coming off of the silent man is terrifying.

`Now, that you’ve settled down. ´ the blind man says, moving to take a seat at the table where John has a better view of the man who was perhaps a genuine werewolf.

`As an alpha, and possibly also due to my slight impairment, my sense of smell is even sharper of your average beta, ´ the man who now sat as comfortable in John’s chair as if it had always been his place to sit, `we are designed by nature to recognise our own blood, and especially out own young. It is a security measure of sorts, to prevent accidents of from happening. ´

`What the hell are you talking about? ´ John spits out venomously, struggling uselessly against the hold of the quiet bastard that has him pinned to his own kitchen table.

`The boy you’ve raised all these years, ´ the man sitting in his chair says then, his voice full of cruel amusement, `is not yours to call your own. ´ the sentence stills John, but although an old fear and suspicion leaps into his mind with victorious cries, he glares at the man making a horrific claim about his son.

`Oh, no, no, no, ´ the blind man laughs merrily, a vicious sharp smile plastered on his face while he continues with a near possessive streak, `That boy is mine. All mine. ´

There might be a part of him that wavers in its belief when it comes to his part in Stiles’ life, a part that had once whispered doubts about whether or not he was indeed the father of the child his wife was carrying was his, but the greater part of him would not let some stranger make false claims about whether or not he was Stiles’ father.

John may have not been there for the birth of his son, stuck instead with dealing with a domestic dispute gone wrong, and he might not always have been around to tuck his son into bed or get him up in the morning, and he may not have always been the father he should’ve been to Stiles’, especially back in the day when Claudia was ill and after her passing; but regardless of his failings, and there were many of them, he was the one who spent many a night in the hospital back in the early-years of Mieczyslaw’s life when he could at times fall mysteriously ill to the point hospitalization was necessary, he’d been the one who’d had to witness his son be forced back into the land of the living after his tiny heart had stopped beating, and he was most certainly the dad who’d had to answer a lot of uncomfortable question that were born in the far too curious brain of his son. John was the one who still suffered sleepless night worrying about not just the medications his son was on and their possible side-effects, he was the one who worried constantly about whether or not he was saving-up enough money to keep his son from going into crippling debt due to the insane amount of money it took to get a college education these days.

`You’re nothing to him. ´ John hisses, allowing all of his anger seep into his voice.

`You might believe that. ´ says the blindman dismissively, slowly rising from his seat, `But what you believe or don’t believe changes nothing. I have him, and I will do as I please with what is mine. ´

`If you touch my son, if you break a fucking hair on his head, I will…´ John starts, struggling more wildly now against the brutal hold that kept him from attacking the bastard that had taken his kid.

`You’ll what? ´ the crimson-eyed demon asks, raising an eyebrow while still smirking down at him.

`I’ll hunt you down, and kill you dead. ´

The laugh that leaves the males who had broken into his house laugh at this, and it only serves to fuel John’s anger.

`Then we shall hope Claudia didn’t leave you the means with which to do so. ´ laughs the blindman, putting on those dark-tinted glass.

`What….´ John starts to say before a large hand grips tightly to his thinning hair, yanking his head back before bring it down with a loud bang against the not so smooth surface of the kitchen table, the impact is so great he feels like his brain has moved inside his now aching skull but before he can even register how truly crippling the slam was another pull of his hair brings his head back, only to come down twice as hard against the table and this time darkness swoops in and takes a hold of him.

**Author's Note:**

> So, before everyone points out how negative John was about Stiles in the beginning of the fic, I’d like to just point out that during a certain point after weeks of not sleeping well, my mind goes into these grim spaces where I just can’t see anything good in anyone. I’ve had moments when I’ve looked at my dog, and thought bitterly that I don’t love him and that I regret getting him, and for that moment those feelings and thoughts feel so real. But the truth is I fucking love my dog, he’s pretty much the only reason that got me out of bed in the morning after I lost one loved-one after another, after another and another. I love him, and I’m terrified of losing him, so those negative thoughts aren’t what I really feel or think, they are just my exhausted brain fucking with me. And John is in that boat at that moment, his boat hasn’t yet taken on as much water as mine as at time, but he is close and so he has these negative thoughts in his head for a brief moment. 
> 
> Again, I love my dog even if my house will never be as clean as I’d like it to be no matter how hard I try, there will always be drool somewhere to be found, and I’m fine with that because if having drool on the ceiling or on the walls or on the clothes I’m wearing to party is the price of having him, well then I’ll take the drool. But yeah, when I haven’t slept well for over a month, or just a few weeks, these negative thoughts begin to creep in, but they are never lasting and are short-lived because all the other days of the year, I love my silly and demanding ball of fur. 
> 
> What else… oh yes, so Claudia cheated on her husband with Deucalion. When she realized he was interested in her, she decided to just go with it so she could learn as much about Deucalion and his pack before she’d make a move on them (just like Kate, except Deucalion wasn’t a kid), once she had enough information she and her men made a move on him, but she’d underestimated Deucalion and the strength of his pack and so instead she lost a lot of her men, and Deucalion’s pack survived with a few less members but still; back then he wasn’t blind yet, but the incident chewed away at the trust of his packmates, which is one of the reasons he then sought to make an alliance with Argents and hoped they would deal with Claudia but instead, well, you know and with two strikes to his name his pack turned on him. Yeah, so Deucalion has a reason to hate Claudia, she drove him to the point where it was possible for him to be blinded, and well, she’d killed his mother and sister in the attack as well as his brother, so there’s a lot of bad-blood between them. 
> 
> It takes him years to hunt down members of the hunter-party that started him down the road of destruction, and eventually he gets Claudia’s and so he’s also now in town searching for Claudia Stilinski, not aware that she was dead, and he was mightily surprised when he caught the scent of a boy who smelled a lot like the huntress but also himself and some stranger. 
> 
> Claudia didn’t think for a second that she wasn’t pregnant with John’s baby, since they had been trying to have a baby, and she’d used protection during her cheat-fest with Deucalion, it wasn’t until her dogs reacted the way they did that she realized her son wasn’t John’s. Claudia might’ve thought about killing her son, even perhaps been ready to let the baby drown, but in the end, she couldn’t do that and instead sought to bind the wolf in him, lock it in a cage if you will, to force her son to be human. Her plan was to raise him as a hunter so their family could be rebuilt after the slaughter that happened when they attacked Deucalion and his pack, but then she became sick and well, you know the rest. 
> 
> Anyways, got to go, got another story to write. 
> 
> Now, although I have no right to tell you what to do, I shall still ask you to take care of yourself and remember we all have our dark days, but those days do not define you or what you give to the people or the pets around you. I know some days feel overwhelmingly bad and too much to deal with, but try and hang-on since you never know what glorious thing will appear once the dark clouds pass. I shall now wish you well, and hope that only wonderful things and thoughts come your way.


End file.
